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GUENEVERE 



GUENEVERE 



A PLAY IN FIVE ACTS 



By 

STARK YOUNG 



'\ . 




THE GRAFTON PRESS 



NEW YORK 



MCMVI 



LIBRARY of CONQRESS 
Two Copies Received 

^£C 1/ !906 I 

CWSS ff KX!., No, 



:7 

Cf n /-. 



ni fi 



Copyright, 1906 
By Stark Young 






^ 
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EDWARD JOHNSON 
" longe quos simul a domo profectos 
diverse maria et viae reportant " 



nephews to the king, and brothers. 



DRAMATIS PERSON.E 

King Arthur. 
GUENEVERE, his wife. 

Sir Launcelot. 

Sir Gawain 

Sir Mordred 

Sir Agravaine 

Sir Gareth 

Sir Kay, the seneschal. 

Dagonet, the queen's page. 

Morwena, the abbess at Boscastle. 

Agatha, a sister. 

Lyone Le Blanche | 

Ygraine [ ladies to the queen. 

Enid J 

Tor, Colgrevaunce, Peleas, Idawc, Bors, Uri- 
ens, Meliagraunce, Cador, Breuse, Persaunt, 
Blamor, Urre, knights of King Arthur's court; 
a woman; other minor persons. 



GUENEVERE 



'Quanto la cosa e piu perfetta 
Piu senta il bene e cosi la doglienza. 



ACT I 

A wood near Mordred's castle. A path runs across; on 
the right side the big rocks stand; on the left the ground 
is less broken. It is the first day of May, the ivood ts 
all green, and the wild flowers blooming. There ts a 
sound of running water, and many birds sing in the 
trees. 

Enter SiR Mordred, Sir Agravaine, and Sir Gawain. 
Mordred 

Curse those little feathered devils, all 

The trees are full of them, singing as if 

The air were silver sweet with feast bells, 

And the world were sweet, and life sweet and free 

From hate. 
Gawain 

Come, come, my lord, let the birds alone, their notes 

Are sweet and limpid like the lives of simple 

Men in this world 
Mordred 

Aye, squeeze your stale morals from nature, brother. 

For every weather a mood. As if she had 

Not planted in our bloods the heaviness 

Of hate, as I do hate Sir Launcelot, 

And scorn the white-souled Arthur. 
Agravaine 

And I do hate this lusty knight. 

9 



10 GUENEVERE 

Gaiuain 
Brothers, brothers, stint your noise. Ye know 
And well that had Sir Launcelot not proved 
Himself in our behalf, we had been by now 
Full cold at the heart-root. He hath saved us all, 
And many a time, has wen — 

Agravanir 
Small matter that. He hath a joy in heat 
And struggle. 

Gawain 
Small matter very like, and men do hate 
The objects of their own ingratitude. 

Agravame 
Daily and nightly he is with the queen. 

Gmuain 
Ye know it not. 

Mordred 
Aye, do we. And the king is shamed — 

Gawain 
Nay, nay, spare that, you care not for Arthur, 'tis 
Some privy hate you bear the queen, or grudge 
Against Sir Launcelot. 

Mordred 
Tush! 'tis all prattle. Lend me your ear, good brother. 
Come, think you not in any of us three 
Were stuff for a king ? 

Gawain 
Thou king? Said I not so? Shame, Mordred, shame! 

A gravaine 
Nay, nay, brother Mordred, 'tis the general cause 
That moves thee, 'member that, the general cause. 

Gawain 
Be not so busy, I pray you, for of this 
Will the whole realm be mischieved. 

Mordred 
Fall what may, what I have said I have said. 



GUENEVERE ii 

Gawain 
That I believe, for thou hadst ever a tooth 
For all unhappiness. 

Mordred 
King Arthur hath consented to this plan 
To take the queen by force and lie in wait 
For Launcelot to rescue her. 

Gawatn 
Take the queen, thou sayest ? 

Agravaine 
Then some romantic hour to catch the two 
Together. 
Gaivatn 
Take the queen r 

Mordred 
Hist! here's two — the first is Idawc 
Of Cornwall; 'tis your poetical, 
Gapes-at-a-ballad cub — he'll be with us. 
And old Sir Kay, sour as curds. {Enter Idawc and Sir 

Kay) How now 
Fair lords ^ We speak of the widening reft betwixt 
The king and the queen, what think you r 

Kay 
'Tis a great tangle, this marriage knot. 

Gatvain 
The king consents ? To snare the queen ^ 

Mordred 
Consents, though we had nigh not brought him to it. 
He hath a deeming strong as ours, but shuns 
The outcome of such publishment of falseness 
In the heart of the realm. 'Tis a dreamer, and his world 
Peoples itself with airy shapes, and stretches 
Rapt vistas for his eye to travel in. 
Conversing with visions. They say he hath 
Small ear for the queen, but hourly weigheth him 
Some cloud-vast enterprise or famous venture, 
So that his kingdom is his spouse and not 



12 GUENEVERE 

The queen. To him she is fair womanhood, 

The finer element within the scheme, 

And not a woman. Therefore being human — 

Idaivc 
True, dost thou — 

Kay 
True, most true. It is no king men see. 
But is a mist. 

Idawc 
Dost thou remember once at harvest time — 
'Twas at the dying twiHght, and the moon, 
Drowsily waking from the dusky east. 
Did shed a glamorous vapour o'er the water. 
Bargemen hither, thither ran to light 
Their torches, music strummed, and on the bank 
Thronged with embarkings for the river pageant — 

A gravainc 
Came what — well, what is't at the pageant.'' Here's 
No time for fooling, youth. 

Idatuc 
Why, on a barge sheathed all in golden samite. 
We saw the white queen like fair summer wings 
Upon a lotus flower. There apart 
Stood Arthur musing, chin in hand, or gazed 
On the stars, and sad dim space, as he would read 
Their meaning. Lo! one said, "Seest not the queen 
Upon yon barge, my lord?" Arthur turned 
Where she did beckon him to look on her, 
And said, "White hue on yellow, sure some sign. 
Fair virtue thus surmounteth jealousy." 
So killed all joyaunce with his moral carp. 
But Launcelot beheld her as a vision. 
And cried, all dazed with her loveliness, 
"God's life, thou'rt fairer than the heaven!" 

Kay 
Odds, by my beard, 'tis past my patience. 
What woman cares to prate of attributes, 



GUENEVERE 13 

Of whys and wherefores and such moral twaddle ? 
These axioms be poor pudding for their stomachs 
When they might hear men sing their beauty's praise — 

Idawc 
Fie, my lord! 

Kay 
Fie not. The king is bUnded with star-dust, 
For once I ventured: "If thou thoughtest more 
Of this same fleshly world, my lord, 
'Twere better haply for thee and for it." 
Said I, "There's holiness as true, I wis. 
About the humblest, rushlit cottage door 
As at the Portal of the Starry Lamps. 
Men's souls need human fellowship to ripen 
Them for God, as many twigs do lift 
Higher the flame." Methought in that 
I was fair eloquent — 

Mordred 
And he — mark me it was some ponderable 
Stuff" he spake — 

Kay 
He turned and said, " Here in this life the soul 
Is solitary and yearns ever toward 
The Solitary, the Great One beyond." 
Meaning somewhat I dare say, for he bent 
Upon me his wide-dreaming eye 
Till I was wildered with their steady burning. 

Mordred 
Come, 'tis no time now for remembrances. 
Soon come the knights to hear our plot. They will 
Lend hands, for ever trouble-brew draws men. 
From diverse causes — 

Gazuam 
Aye, some like me for stubborn certainty 
Desire to prove at all costs what they know. 

A gravaine 
Be not too sure. 



14 GUENEVERE 

Gawaiti 
For some men rather would be sure and die 
Than live in midst of doubtings. Ah how, 
How if this cause splits brothers thus, will all 
The court be rent! 

Mordred 
Some for gain — 

Gawain 
Aye, you will reward them, brother. 

Mordred 
I did not say so. 

Agravaine 
Leave wrangling, they are at hand. 

{Enter knights. Sir Bors, Sir Uriens, Sir Tor, and others. 
All wear blank shields.^ 
Mordred 
Good morrow, fair knights! The time doth press, come, 

come. 
Ring me round here, and let me speak our plan. 
Who here knows not the shame that flares at court. 
Open as day? Think not the king deceived; 
He hath a deeming, but he is full loth to speak. 
Seeing how ofttimes Sir Launcelot hath served 
The king and the queen and saved their worship. 
And if we take not Launcelot with the queen 
And make accusal, you know the accuser must 
Prove't on Sir Launcelot himself; the which 
No living wight hath yet done. But if 
We take him — 
Meliagraunce 
But, my lord, how may this be done ? 

Mordred 
Peace, and I will tell you. This day 
Is the queen's maying, and even now she rides 
To woods and fields. With her come ten of the Queen's 

Knights, 
Who ride thus ever near to her, and joust 



GUENEVERE 



15 



For her, and wear no manner of arms but hers. 
They shall be dressed in green and white, and go 
Gathering herbs and flowers to deck themselves 
For maying. There'll be songs — 

Meltagrauncc 
Well ? 

Mordred 
Well, I saw them start, and they shall come 
This way, and we will take them. 
{Confusion.) 

Nay, nay, stir not, nor mutter discontent. 
But hear me. We will take the queen and hers 
To my castle hard by, she will send in secret 
Unto Sir Launcelot and he will come. 

Meliagraunce 
Aye, he will come, mark you he will come! 

Mordred 
Aye, he will come. We'll seem to yield, then take 
Him later with the queen. The king himself shall 
see it. 

Agravaine 
Sir Launcelot will come to rescue her. 
The king shall be brought, and we shall catch our birds 
Together. 

Kay 
Here's Cador and Breuse linked arm in arm, and drunk 
As always. 'Tis strange they lack preferment 
At court. Now sure 'twill not be long for them, 
Such worthlessness could never fail to be 
Rewarded by the state. Sir Breuse hath bound 
A tavern garland on his brow, and look, 
Cador hath him a bread-cake for a shield. 
{Enter Cador and Breuse.) 

Cador 
Steady, steady! 

Breuse 
Steady! We go to make a kingdom now. 



i6 GUENEVERE 

Cador 
Aye, we be statesmen, and 'twere well to walk 
Straight. 

Breuse 
'Tis a hard matter. 

Cador 
Keep hold on me, and 'twill be well. 

Kay 
Aye, that's politic. Ho! young sops. 
What is't in the air ^. 

Breuse 
'Tis a new king I scent, methinks. 

Mordred 
We have no time for them, come, come! Doubt not 
But we shall catch our birds together. 

Ga^vain 
Catch them together — how .? Think you the queen 
Will bide an hour longer than need be 
In thy black walls .'' 

Mordred 
That I do. Sir Launcelot hath pained 
Himself too much already on her part, 
She will keep low to 'scape the scandal. That, 
Or we can hobble up her knights that they 
Will not depart so speedily. The queen 
Will not desert them methinks. 

Gawain 
Scandal! 

Mordred 
Aye, scandal, 'tis the eye of the matter. 

Cador 
Scandal, what is scandal ? 

Kay 
'Tis piety with a bit of news to tell. 
A fair garland thou hast, my lord. 

Breuse 
To keep my memory green, belike. 



GUENEVERE 17 

Kay 
The fruit of the vine is within, is't not ? A gallant 
Shield hast thou, Cador. 'Twill keep off death. 

Cador 
Truly it may be. 

Breuse 
Nay, nay, eat not thy defence, brave lord. Stand up! 

Kay 
'Twere more avail to swallow thy spear, methinks. 
'Twould help thee stand. 

Breuse 
Art thou the king, Sir Mordred, yet — yet : 

Mordred 
Silence, thou muddled fool. Not yet, nor ever! 

Breuse 
I went to say I could not worship thee. 
I serve the fallen angel that the priest 
Told me of, naming him not. 

Mordred 
Angel ? 

Breuse 
Wine, 'tis a fallen angel. 

Knight 
Keen-carved, Sir Garland. 

Kay 
Sure one would listen at thine ear as at 
A sea-shell for the empty roaring. 

Mordred 
'Tis no time for such chaffering. Get them aside. 
Good Sir Kay, stop but their noise and I 
Were much beholden to you. 

Kay 
'Twould merit somewhat. Come, ye princely wits. 
Let me but tell my latest dream — 'twas that 
A shower of wine will fall this Friday next — 

Cador 
Wine! Haste thee, Breuse, find one that hath a moat 



I 8 GUENEVERE 

To sell. Good Sir Kay, tell more! 

Kay 
Come then and I will satisfy you. {They go to the left of 
the stage.) 

Gawatn 
My lords, let me speak. 

A gravaine 
Nay, hear him not, my lords, for he had rather 
Corruption bred and rotted at the court 
Than he should stir his sluggish feet in struggle. 

Knight 
Craven! Fie! 

Second Knivht 

o 

We'll hear Sir Gawain. 

Cries 
Sir Gawain! Sir Gawain! Fie! Craven! Sir Gawain! 

Gawain 
Hear me briefly. My lords, it is a grievous 
Thinji to wreck a jiood man's fortune. God 
Will break the evil. Therefore have we no need 
To avenge the king. That Launcelot is false ye 

know 
Not yet, but know if he be found so what 
Will fall on us. Shipwreck and storm and split — 
Arthur Is king, but Launcelot hath lands, 
Hath bournes and territories of huge extent 
Here In this island, and doth own a realm 
In Fraunce, castles and followers. Let but 
Discord raise her head between them two, 
And this demesne of Britain will be rent 
In twain, racked and ovenvhelmed; the fellowship 
Of the King's Round Table broke, the noblest face 
And form of chivalry be felled and gutted 
In a civil strife. And if in truth — 

A gravaine 
Hurry, man, art thou old Nestor come 
Back from Hell, and windier than ever ? 



GUENEVERE 19 

Mordred 
True, brother. Come closer, Sir Knights, and ye 
Shall see the better justice of our plans. {They with- 
draw to left.) 

Kay {on the right) 
Calm thee, calm thee! Spare thy words. The world 
Hath deafened itself already with much speech. 

Brcuse {mounts a rock) 
I'll be a king, have 1 not a crown ? 

Kay 
But little in it. 

Cador 
Brains were not missed in a king, good sir. He is 
My friend. 

Breuse 
I will be an historical king, and marry 
Me three wives. 

Cador 
Nay, sweet friend, when thou art king, wed not. 
King married is not king, but the queen's husband. 

Bretise 
Weep not, thou mayst serve me. 

Kay 
Aye, listen yonder. 

Gawain 
If Launcelot doth then love the queen, hath he 
Not championed her more than the saintly Arthur .^ 
If still ye head on this I say I am 
Not with you, and depart. 

Bors 
Nor will 1 hear your tales, nor share your counsels. 

Blamor 
Nor I be traitor 'gainst the noblest knight 
In all the world. 

Mordred 
Wilt thou take hence that two ? 



20 GUENEVERE 

Gawain 
Glad were I. When they be sober they 
Will give me thanks. 

Kay 
Go, Cador, and thou Breuse, this man hath found 
A fishpond lately dried. 'Twill hold thy wine. 

Cador 
Come, come, good Sir. What is't to Friday? {Exeunt 
Gawain, Breuse, Cador, Bors, and Blarnor.) 

Agravaine 
They are like some fishes, my lord, and dread the light. 

Kay 
Let Launcelot and the queen be caught. 

Kniffht 
Ho! Sir Ka3\ 'tis the cream, the cake of solid 
Sense. 

Mordred 
Silence, I pray you. 

Kay 
Have I not told the king to tread on Earth .? 
Answer me that. 

Agravaine 
Yea, yea, greybeard. 

Kay 
Once Sir Launcelot changed mail with me 
And saved me at a venture. Odds, at my 
Best feasts they cannot eat for love. I had served 
Him for his courtesy — leave out the queen — 
And I had fed him fat as the Duke of Dutchmen. 

Agravaine 
Rattle your keys. Sir Kay, instead of your tongue, 
Your jams are sweeter than your words. 

Kay 
Sweeter for thy tongue haply; for it 
Hath tasted of more jam than of wise words. 

Tor 
The shame burns deep, the purging of the court 



GUENEVERE 2i 

Will uplift all the realm and bring to bloom 
Again the chaste flower of the earlier days. 

Persauiit 
Nay, I dare swear my lady's purity. Be the truth 
As it may, shame unto a man that speaks 
Shamefully of a lady and a queen. 

Agravatne 
You wear fresh flowers, youth, but they will fade. 

Cries 
I am against this thing. Let it be tried. Cowards! 

And I! 
{Confusion, and taking of sides.) 

Mordred 
Thus is the whole court rent to many minds. 
The venture is dangerous. 

Agravaine 
Nay, speak to them with that tongue of thine and they 
Will follow — 

Mordred 
Fair lords, young knights full of the noble fire 
Of youth, put up your swords, hear me! 
{Confusion.) 

Knights 
Sir Mordred! Fie! Cowards! Sir Mordred! 

Mordred 
My lords, none of us would the queen took hurt 
From this we go to do. Think ye not so. 
The thing is this, doubt like a hidden mould 
Eats up the peace of the court — sure the thing 
Touches us all equally. Certain 
Evil would I rather choose than blank 
Uncertainty. 

Knight 
And after she is ta'en, my lord, what then ? 

Mordred 
Then I will feign hot love for her, and threaten 
Masteries. Sir Launcelot will come 



22 GUENEVERE 

And we shall see what door the wind blows in. 
{There is the sound of talk and laughter.) 

A gravaine 
They come. 

Mordred 
'Tis too late but to prove the thing as planned. 

Persaunt 
Would I had kept out of this. 

Kay 
Too late for temperance after the lips are wet. 
{Exeunt all, hiding themselves behind rocks and trees to the 
left. Enter the queen zvith twelve knights and three 
ladies, all in green and white, %vearing wreaths and 
bearing garlands of flowers.) 
Guenevere 
,y But leave, good sirs, this hunting talk 

/' Of falcons, jesses, leash and lure, there's love, 
We have not spoke of that, and it is May. 
Sing, my lord, one of the songs you learned 
In your knave service at the court. 

Gareth 
'Tis but a kitchen song, my lady, sung 
By humble wenches at ring-time. 

Guenevere 
Sir Knight, if thou wert armed, I'd send thee back 
To bring me water in thy helmet all 
This way, as penance for thy dulness. 
Cannot the humblest woman sing her love. 
My lord ? Love maketh any woman as 
A queen, I pray you sing. 
Gareth {sings) 

The white-thorn blossoms blow, 
And sweet buttercups in the grass. 
Go woo, my lad, go wooing! 
In winter frosts the blood is slow, 
But lusty May makes every lass 
Come smiling to your wooing. 



GUENEVERE 23 

Weave marigolds within your hair, 
Go woo, my lad, go wooing, 
For spring makes all the lasses fair 
And ready for your wooing! 

Guenevere 
'Tis a fair chaunt. Sweet season hath ever sweet song. 
Lo! there a little woodland pool, rimmed round 
With crocuses, and tangled water-flags, 
Here shepherd's purse and vetch and meadow-sweet — 
See how the blue sky lieth in it — come — 
And now a cloud sails by. This is the time 
When maids may learn what manner of fortune waiteth 
Them, and who their knights haply may be. 
Therefore Lyone and Enid and Ygraine, 
Bide with me here. And ye. Sir Knights, shall leave 
Us and go on a little space ahead, 
And one by one each maid shall search the pond 
For her fate's image. 

Lyone 
Thou too wilt read thy glass, wilt thou not, my lady I 

Guenevere 
Nay, nay, I am an aged dame, and all 
My ships are in already. Seest thou not 
The furrows in my picture there t 

Lyone 
'Tis but the ripple from the rushes breaks 
Thy feature, else 'twere fair as the flowers mirrored 
Near the marge. 

Guenevere 
Ah, flatter me not, child, 'tis youth alone 
Hath still its bright sails growing on the horizon's 
Verge, flocking like gulls, the crafts of hope. 
Now do ye listen to this play of fortunes. 
Sir Knights, ye shall go on, nor dare look back. 
And when that ye are gone, one of these maids — 
But ye must know not which — shall watch her here 
In the water for her true love's face to look 



24 GUENEVERE 

Over her shoulder. Meanwhile ye shall 

Draw lots to find which knight returns. 'Tis he, 

By the faith of this blue pond, shall be her lord. 

Gareth 
Go now, my lady ? 

Guenevere 
Yea, but go not too far. And he that wins, 
If he be wise, will hasten back 
To meet the fair eyes laughing in the pool 

(Exeunt knights to left.) 
I will take me three petals thus and tear 
In one a rent — thou seest — and ye shall choose 
One each, and she that holdeth the torn leaf — 
Wit ye 'tis the pierced heart — 'tis she shall watch 
First in the pool. Choose quickly. (They choose.) 
Ah, Lyone le Blanche, my lily maid, 
'Tis thou; then kneel thee here, one comes. 
Child, thy fair hair mingles its pale gold with the 

crocus 
Flowers, and is as fair as they. Hist! 
(Enter Sir Colgrevaunce. He comes and looks m the 
pool.) 

Lyone 
Sir Colgrevaunce! 

Colgrevaunce 
L)/one ! 

Guenevere 
Fie, fie, Lyone, thy cheeks are flame, and thine. 
Sir Knight! 

Colgrevaunce 
'Tis but the stooping. 

Guenevere 
Ah nay, now I do swear these eyes have met 
For love ere this. 'Tis a pretty jest to bribe 
Beforehand Mother Fortune thus. Ye shall plight 
Your troth with rush-rings from this friendly bank. 
Go now, my lord, send others to assay. 



GUENEVERE 25 

Colgrevaunce 
God send another such good grace as mine. 

Gueneverc 
Now, Enid and Ygraine, choose ye from these 
Two petals, as but now ye chose. Who has't \ 
Tis thou, Ygraine r Then kneel. {Tgraine kneels.) 

Tgraine 
Ah, Jesu, keep me, my lady, some reptile stirs 
The slime beneath and muddies the whole pool. 
'Tis an ill omen, I will not read my lot 
To-day. (Rises.) 

Enid 
Nor 1. See, all is foul, 'tis an ill omen. 

Guenevere 
Think you ? I will not say these signs are true 
Or false, seeing we know not what be hid 
From the eye of man. Yet I like it not. 

Tgraine 
Still it muddies, I will not look! 

Guenevere 
Then let us leave it and go on. {They start out to the 
left.) 

Enid 
What noise was that, the sound of bosses clanking 
On armed heel ? 

(Enter Mordred and the knights. The latter have their 
visors down.) 

Mordred 
Good morrow, madam. 

Guenevere 
My lord, you know this is the first of May, 
When men's souls like the white clouds float in 

dreams. 
What means this froward battlement of steel 
At such a time ? Out of my way, I like it not. 
(The Queen s Knights have come up on the left; commotion 
off the stage in that direction.) 



26 GUENEVERE 

Guenevere 
Hold yet, my knights, 'tis useless, ye have no shields. 
If my lord Arthur or Sir Launcelot 
They, if they were here, would teach thee how 
To budge, thou caitiff Mordred. 

Mordred 
Aye, but our lord Arthur is not here, 
Nor thy Sir Launcelot. If either were, 
Who knows what he would do 't So I will speak. 

Guenevere 
Speak then and go. 

Mordred 
Hear then and stay. 'Tis long that I have loved thee. 
And passing well, and have long eyed my time. 
This day I have thee, and thou leavst me not 
Till thou dost love with me, or I and all 
These my men-at-arms be dead. Come 
To my castle near, come willingly, for come 
Thou shalt, whether thou wilt or no. 

Guenevere 
Hast spoken ? 

Mordred 
Aye, madame, for the nonce. 

Guenevere 
Then this is my answer. Your love and you I spurn 
Out of my path like offal. Know, Sir Mordred, 
I had liefer cut my throat in twain 
Than love with you. Who these be, for there 
Are knights among your menials here, what men 
Of my lord's these be, that lend their hands to you 
And do preserve this vile incognito, 
I know not, but what they be I know. 
Vile dust to which your spittle gives a mould 
And shape, without it, formless atoms. 

Mordred 
Slow, madam, slow, your hot words cannot sink 
In mv cold ears. 



GUENEVERE 27 

{Off the stage to the left, the Queen s Knights break nearer 
through the ranks of Mordred's men.) 

Colgrevaunce 
Ho, we come, my lady! 

Mordred 
Back, puppets. 

Gareth 
Way there, cowards! 

Guenevere 
Nay, nay, ye are not armed! 

Peleas 
Whether we die or not we care not, so 
We keep thee safe. 

Colgrevaunce 
We care not! On, on! 
(Confusion increases off the stage to the left.) 

Guenevere {aside to Dagonet) 
Go boy, go Dagonet, go, take this ring. 
Watch thy chance and go. Give to Sir Launcelot 
This ring, and pray if he would ever see 
My face again, to come and succour me 
From shame. Go, spare not thyself! 

Lyone 
O Jesu in heaven, help thy knights! 

Guenevere 
Stay, stay your blows! 

Mordred 
Stay your blows. 

Persaunt 
Stay your blows, fools! 

Guenevere 
The most valiant are as chaff before armed baseness. 
And this I know, good men have naught to fear 
Save only cowards. Therefore, Sir Mordred, slay not 
My knights. I will go with you if you hurt 
Them not, and bring them to my prison. 
For I will slay myself if they be not 



28 GUENEVERE 

In presence while I am with you. 

Mordred 
For your sake, madam, it shall be done. But where 
Is Dagonet, the page ? Nay, madam, you 
Have played me false. Give the boy chase, you two, 
{Aside) But do not stop him. Let there be litters 
Made, and bring these wounded after us. 
{The queen and her ladies go out with Sir Mordred and 
his party. The wounded knights are borne on litters 
made from the shields and spears. Sir Agravaine 
remains. Enter Sir Kay.) 

Kay 
Come you not with us, my lord ? We wait. 

Agravaine 
No, I will bide if haply the page returns here. 

Kay 
How will it end ? Think you Sir Launcelot 
Will come .'' 

Agravaine 
Think you 'twill ever rain again ? 

Kay 
There'll be wild deeds to follow this day's work. 
Sure man's devilry doth pass the devil; 
And thy brother hath outdevilled Hell. I'll no 
More o't, but get me home. 

Agravaine 
Go plan a feast, 'tis suited to thy wits 
Some better than these plotted policies. 

Kay 
Belike 'twere better for thee too. The realm 
Were safer then. And sure thy brains and belly 
Are all one. {Exit Kay.) 

Agravaine 
Sour but sharp likewise. 'Tis no noodle head. 
{Enter Dagonet running.) 

Dagonet 
Gone, oh, my lady! 



GUENEVERE 29 

Agravaine 
Stop your whimpers, cub, have you found him ? 
Speak, fool! 

Dagonet 
Yea, my lord, at the edge of the wood, he had 
Already got word of mischief to the queen. 
And hither gat him armed. 

Agravaine 
He comes ? 

Dagonet 
Close behind, my lord, there! there's his breastplate 
Flashed through the trees — there! my lord. 

Agravaine 
Ha, ha, the broth thickens, come, come, shag-head. 

Dagonet 
There, my lord! 
{To the right is heard the sound of a galloping horse.) 



ACT II 

A Jay later. One of the chambers in Sir MorJred's 
castle. The wounded knights lie in the adjoining room 
to the left. On the right is a window with bars. A 
flight of steps outside leads up to the door at the back. 
The room has a canopied bed, tapestries, and armorial 
ornaments. Beloiv is the sound of hammering. Dag- 
onet sits by the window. Sir Colgrevaunce stands by 
the window. 
Colgrevaunce 

Dagonet, what means that knocking ? 
Dagonet 

They mend what wreck Sir Launcelot wrought. 
Colgrevaunce 

On yesterday ? 
Dagonet 

Yesterday, my lord, when he came here 



30 GUENEVERE 

To succour my lady. In he rode and smote 
Thrice with his spear, and the hinges groaned. 
And he smote down the door, and stoutly thrang 
Amid the press, hewing about from right 
To left, until Sir Mordred came and yielded 
Him in terror, and granted the queen's release. 

Colgrevaunce 
You saw it, boy r 

Dagonet 
Yea, did I. Some day may Jesu grant 
That I may be a man, even such a knight 
As our Sir Launcelot, and serve some lady 
Like the queen. 

Colgrevaunce 
The lad dreams. Right, thou art in the orient 
Of life, and at that hour the daylight's hue 
Is golden. 

Dagonet 
I do not know" all thou sayst, my lord. 

Colgrevaunce 
But why lingers the queen here ? To still 
The shame maybe. Let her then tell, 
She cometh now ? 

Dagonet 
Not yet, my lord. 

Colgrevaunce 
Haply she will tell us when she comes. 
Hither, boy, and tell us more of this 
Late prowess of Sir Launcelot's. Shut to 
The door, the wind from yonder casement blows 
Too much over the floor here. 

{Exeunt Dagonet and Sir Colgrevaunce. Enter Sir Mor- 
dred. He makes a circuit of the room, and examines 
the bars of the wmdotu.) 

Mordred 
I'll seem to hesitate. 'Twill make him like 
A goaded horse by mad leaps lead himself 



GUENEVERE 31 

To mishap — there's jealous prying for you. 
Yea, my lord, the chamber is vacant, come. 
Too fast intent to hear. 'Tis sport to watch 
This greatness with its single view and aim, 
And keen half-sight, steer for its end, all blind 
To the rest. My lord, 'tis vacant here. Come! 
{Enter King Arthur.) 

The queen is in the courtyard with the hounds 
And falcons, the birds' flight seems to charm her. 

Arthur 
'Tis fair without, and yet methinks the air 
Hath lost the nipping flame that spurs the blood. 
'Tis stale and heavy. I like not the red 
Streak in the west, nor the dun mound over it. 
Knows naught, poor wretch, of what draws over 

her. 
'Tis a poor, weary, foolish world where we 
Blow in like wind, ruled by dark outer forces, 
That floods the hollows and low places here 
On our globe, and lo! is gone again. 

Mordred 
Nay, nay, my lord, naught ever came of dreaming. 

Arthur 
Sir Mordred I repent that ever I 
Did lend mine ear to this. A grievous hurt 
To me and mine will fall of it if she 
Be false. If she is not, then all this shame 
Were undeserved of her. 

Mordred 
Then give it up, my lord. 

Arthur 
Nay, we have gone too far now to draw back, 
Yet I do repent me. You were 
Too forward in it. 

Mordred 
It was not I, my lord, but those behind 
That pushed me on as kinsman to yourself. 



32 GUENEVERE 

Saying the court reeked with the stench of the queen's 
falseness. 

Arthur 
There's foulness in thy words, I like it not. 

Mordred 
'Twere best forgotten all. Why should we credit 
Vile slander. Thou knowest — 

Arthur 
I had some warning of this same thing once 
From Merlin, the wizard, long before I took 
The daughter of Leodograunce to wife. 
But when I saw her I did heed him not. 
Still, whether she be false or true, I will 
Not swear. To me she hath been ever fair 
And gentle, and to my knights and to all ladies, 
A queen among women and a woman among 
Queens. And that Sir Launcelot loves her 
I dare say. He hath succoured her from danger, 
As when — 

Mordred 
But she, my lord, loves she him ? 

Arthur 
Whether she loveth him I will not say — 

Mordred 
Thou wilt not say. Men say that thou striv'st not 
For certainty, loving the peace of thy court 
More than thy wife and honour. 

Arthur 
Thou boldest well the evil said of me. 
Whether she loveth him or not I will 
Not say. God hath given him fair seemliness 
Of form, and hardiness to work so largely 
That he hath had always the better in combat. 
And she hath a heart passionate and wild, 
But yet her soul beats high — 

Mordred 
Nathless ere this have men said that they took 



GUENEVERE 33 

Long draughts of love together. 

Arthur 
Her lofty soul yearns toward the heights, she fain 
Would keep the purity of the court, 
And love Sir Launcelot as soul loves soul. 
But then her eye takes fire at sight of him, 
Her veins surge hot with the glory, colour, pomp. 
And beauty of this world, — the mortal strife 
'Twixt flesh and spirit, which hath won I know not. 

Mordrcd 
My lord, I speak, methinks, as should become 
Your nephew, and I am but an unwilling 
Mouthpiece of mine ears. 

Arthur 
It is an old lie. 

Mordred 
Yea, my lord, an old lie, and I 
Do doubt it altogether. 

Arthur 
It is a lie. 

Mordred 
Yet there be whispers in the court. 

Arthur 
And 'twould be well to prove it false. 
What whispers ? 

Mordrcd 
About Sir Launcelot and the queen, my lord. 
Men say that when Sir Launcelot departs. 
She in her secret bosom writhes and welters 
Like a mad woman, though she give no sign 
Outwardly to men. 

Arthur 
She is the queen. 

Mordred 
Aye, my lord, and bears it with a proud 
Countenance, as though she felt no fears 
Of her love, nor scented her own peril. 



34 GUENEVERE 

Arthur 
She is the queen. 

Mordred 
Only last night, but 'tis a lie — 

Arthur 
What is a lie ? 

Mordred 
My lord, it is a lie I blush to tell. 
Some caitiff swore Sir Launcelot to have come 
Here to the queen, even last night. 

Arthur 
Came here? God's life! 

Mordred 
Be calm, my lord, my men slept 'fore the door. 
He could not enter there, nor by yon threshold 
Where the knights sleep. There is no place 
Save the window here and that is barred. 
And — 

Arthur 
Why did you start, when your hand touched the bar .'' 

Mordred 
Did I start, my lord ? 

Arthur 
Aye, and broke off your speech. Why do you hold 
The bar as if you fear to fall ? 

Mordred 
Hold the bar, my lord ? 

Arthur 
You trifle with me, dog, playing parrot thus! 

Mordred 
Put up your sword, wild man. I would save you 
Even at this last moment. Some hand 
Hath torn the bar out of its place, and all 
Its fellows likewise have been set loosely 
In notch again. 

Arthur 
My brain scorches. Let me but wait with thee, 



GUENEVERE 35 

Good Mordred, till the end. 

Mordred 
Come, we cannot wait here. 
{Mordred takes down the torch. Exeunt. The chamber 

IS dark.) 
{The door from the knights' chamber ope?is, and the ligbl 
streams into the room. Guenevere stands at the door. 
Lyone, Enid, and Tgraine are with her. Dagonet 
carries a lighted lamp and a torch. The ladies have 
their lamps still unlit. Sir Colgrevaunce follows 
them in, and stands near the door.) 
Colgrevaunce 
My lady, I do speak for them that here 
Lie weary past all standing with their wounds. 
We ask why stayest thou here within these walls ? 
They slime with falseness. 

Guenevere 
Well may you know that 'tis not any love 
For this foul place that keeps me here, 'tis dread 
Lest word of this should come to the king and new 
Strife rise, now through me. This poor realm is 
Already like to flame a holocaust 
From courtly feuds and smouldering ashes, dull 
And waiting to be stirred, kindred hates 
And new-old grudges. Pray God none come 
By me. Therefore when you are come with me 
To Camelot and the court, speak not of this 
Black, treacherous deed, but 'scape the noise and scandal. 
Three days let us bide here as if we came 
By chance into this castle of Sir Mordred's, 
Where entertainment proffered pleased us so 
That we must needs remain to bask in it. 
Meantime the hours will pass — 
Knight {in chamber to the left) 
Nay, we shall be shamed, they are traitors all. 

Colgrevaunce 
Nay, the queen hath judged aright, 'tis well. 



36 GUENEVERE 

Let Mordied sour now, uneasy, crafty. 

Brewing discontent, better this cloak 

To hide his guilt than some new war in Britain. 

Guenevcrc 
Here too my knights lie wounded in my cause, 
Think you I will forsake them thus ? Not so. 
But I will take them with me hence to-morrow 
If they be strong enough. If not I bide. 

Knight {in chamber) 
'Tis half the world's mishap lies in that word 
To-morrow. 

Guenevere 
Ye lack nothing, fair knights ? Then sweet sleep 
Visit your eyelids all the night long. God 
Gave sleep for brave men. 

Knights (in room) 
Jesu keep thee, my lady. 

Colgrevaiincc 
They are already half asleep, my lady. 
And my brain muddles strangely since I supped. 
Here within is the tankard we drank from — ■ 
It was a sleepy draught. Think you 'twas drugged ? 

Guenevrrr 
I know not. Wherefore .'' 

Colgrevaunce 
Mine eyes are lead — aye me, my heart is heavier 
With some foreboding. 'Tis foolish surely. 
But I do feel that if I sleep I shall 
Not waken. 

Guenevere 
'Tis but the wound in thy arm. Set down the cup. 
Good night. 

Colgrevaunce 
Good night. God keep thee, my lady, good night. 
(Exit.) 

Guenevere 
'Tis a strange drowsiness, would God I had it. 



GUENEVERE 



37 



Lyone 
I have it not either. 

Guenevere 
Ygraine and Enid, ye have wearied much 
This day, and thirst for the sweet mead of dreams 
In the cup of sleep. Lyone le Blanche, my fair 
Lyone, thy head hath need of resting-place, 
Though thou know'st it not. For love in the heart 

beguileth 
Like the sea-air, 

Lyone 
Nay, madam — 

Guenevere 
Ah, tell me not, have I not loved ^. Now do 
Thou kiss me here on my brow, for I have strange 
Shadows on my soul to-night, and I 
Have need of woman's love. Wherefore I know not, 
But my heart is sad. 

{The three ladies light their lamps at hers, and kiss her 
forehead as they go out.) 

Enid 
Good night, and a long sweet sleep to thee. 

Tgraine 
Good night, and the honey of dreams to thee, my lady. 

Lyone 
Nay, I protest, though I do love 
I fain would stay with thee, my lady. I have 
No need of sleep. 

Guenevere 
Ah, nay, go to thy pillow, child. There, there, 
I kiss dear rest upon thy brow. Do I 
Not know, have I not loved .'' (Exit Lyone.) 
God, have I not loved! 

Dagonet 
What hast thou done, my lady ? 

Guenevere 
'Tis nothing. Smother those sconces, Dagonet. 



38 GUENEVERE 

{He puts out torches by the luindow.) 

Dago net 
How beautiful thou art, my lady, thou 
Art like the meadows. 

Guenevere 
Like the meadows — how, child ? 

Dagonet 
Why, now 'tis summer in the meadows, so 
For thee it is the summer of thy beauty. 
Beauty hath her seasons like the air. 
Hath she not, my lady ^ 

Guenevere 
Haply. 

Dagonet 

o 

Her spring and summer and autumn — 

Guenevere 
And winter. True, very true! Boy, canst thou sing r 

Dagonet 
'Twill be sung badly, for I am not gay 
To-night. Art thou too sad, my lady, yea, 
Thou'st said it. Last night I could not sleep. 
And while I tossed in wakefulness I heard 
Knights clatter in their sleep; one leapt out 
Of bed, one dreamed he grasped a naked sword. 
It bodes no good, my lady. And this eve 
At dusk I saw big knights in the outer courtyard 
Polishing their mail, and all the squires 
Busily set. What doth it mean, my lady ? 
It bodes no good. 

Guenevere 
Ask me not, boy. Take down thy harp 
And sing. Not loudly, 'tis late. Rouse not 
The happy, happy souls that can lie down 
And sleep. {Aside.) If I were with him always, were 
It well ? Nay, passion feedeth on itself, 
'Tis mastery of self that bringeth water 
For the old stain. 



GUENEVERE 39 

Dagonet {by the window, sings) 

Look out, my lady fair, and see 

The lustre of the night. 

The moon beneath her canopy 

Sails beauteous and bright. 

The hawthorn bough swings to and fro, 

The nightingale sings low, sings low, 

Look out, my lady fair! 

Look out, my lady fair, — 

Some cloud eats up the moon, I cannot sing. 
See how the shadows grow, and now the wind 
Gins rise. Dost hearken ? 

Guenevere 
Thou'rt fanciful. Stir some low murmuring sound 
Among thy strings, to bear thy song to me 
Like distant burthen on an evening wind. 
'Tis well — now come the gentle syllables 
Slipping like pearls upon the lovely thread. 

Dagonet (sings) 

Lean out, my lady fair, and hear 
The twitter of my lute that wings 
My heart to thee — 

Madam, I hear noises 'neath the window, 
Rattle of pebbles and scratching 'gainst the walls. 

Guenevere 
It was some bed-sore knight in yonder room 
Turning to rest him. Thou art sleepy, go, 
Nay, go, good night. 

Dagonet 
God keep thee well, and make thee a good night. 
My lady. 
(Exit Dagonet. Guenevere Jraws the bolt after him, and 

fastens other door.) 
{Enter Sir Launcelot at the ivindow.) 



40 GUENEVERE 

Launcelot 
On yesternight to show my love for thee 
I tore out of their sockets these iron bones, 
Strove with might to show my love. 

Guencvere 
Ah, r^y beloved, I have set thee as 
A seal upon my heart, as a signet ring 
Upon mine heart have I set thee. 
But yet. Sir Launcelot, my blood is heavy 
With misgiving. 

Launcelot 
And mine. I know not wherefore I am racked 
With dread. But now I did see black shapes hurtle 
Thick upon the gust; the wind doth reek 
With pests and fevers, rank and rotten fogs 
Come from the sloughs. This stinking of the air 
Liketh me not. The stars are stubborn, all 
This darkness here is much too thick. 

Guenevcrc. 
'Tis so. But now the moon shined clear, now she 
Is gone. The morbid air doth suck up humours 
From the glens, a death-sweet perfume that 
But half doth please me. The heaven is silent. 
And round the world the mantle of the dusk 
Cloaks heavily. What noise was that ? 

Launcelot 
It was the clock at the postern gate that smote. 

Guenevere 
What hour, didst thou take count ? 

Launcelot 
Eleven, my lady. 

Guenevere 
Think you it a lucky hour 1 

Launcelot 
Nay, I know not, but I — 

Guenevere 
My lord Sir Launcelot, it was a hapless 



GUENEVERE 41 

Hour that ever we twain met together. 

I 'member me the day thou first didst come 

To Camelot and the jousts. Ah, we were young — 

Launcelot 
And I did lack my sword and would have been shamed 
Hadst thou not brought it to me wrapped in thy robe. 

Guenevere 
And I did see thee fight so strong and seemly. 

Launcelot 
And I saw thee, Queen Guenevere, saw thee, 
Fairest among all women and all queens. 
And then as the rising moon looms like a white 
Fire from the world's edge, flaming into heaven, 
So burned up love through all my veins. 

Guenevere 
And as the streams of Araby do nurse 
The myrtle flower, and the wind and the rain lead up 
Till it bursts with prisoned sweetness, so hath love 
Opened my heart. And yet to-night have I 
Fears lest no good will come of it. 
How often have we made our promises, 
Made prayers to the cross that never more we fall 
In deadly sin — Alas, Sir Launcelot, 
An 'twere not for this earthly taint, thou hadst 
Succeeded in the quest. 
{The sound of ivind and distant thunder without.) 

Launcelot 
Yea, madam, I had seen the Sangreal 
But for this stain to blot it from mine eyes. 
Once I saw a great clearness in a chamber, 
And in the midst a silver table held, 
Covered with red samite from my sight. 
The cup that bore the blessed blood of God, 
With many angels singing nigh. And then 
The holy vessel of the Sangreal passed. 
And the fire smote me in the visage that 
I might not see, but only stand, my poor 



42 GUENEVERE 

Eyes hungering, my nostrils filled with the sweet 
Savour round. For never did I battle 
For God's sake, but only to win worship 
Or be better loved of thee. 

Guenevere 
Many a night — 

{Thunder. Guenevere goes to the windoiv.) 
The aspect of the heavens groweth perilous. 

Launcelot 
How sweet is hearth and fellowship on such 
A night. Together — 

Guenevere 
Aye, frightened children cowering with dread. 
Hark to the bellowing elements! Methinks 
'Tis all the wrath of the world met here to-night. 
Look how the wind heaves darkness past the window! 

Launcelot 
Come from the lightning's reach. 'Tis well. What was't 
Many a night, thou saidst ? 

Guenevere 
Many a night. Sir Launcelot, have I 
Lain in the castle of silence, when, slowly 
Dropping dew-like round the eaves of sleep, 
Came dreams and separate lives. And then I saw 
That other life our younger visions painted. 
Ah, one soul liveth many lives, my lord, 
During our days' short span. Without this taint 
The purity of the court were still unbroke. 
And still unmarred were chivalry and worship. 
But from our love I fear me there will come 
Downfall and woe to many. 

Launcelot 
Grieve not thus o'ermuch. Dost not know well 
God pardoneth all things sooner than despair ? 

Guenevere 
Methought there must be holiness somehow 
When soul drinketh up soul for love. Somehow — 



GUENEVERE 43 

But since it may not be, we needs must grieve 
And make but mournful cheer. 

Launcelot 
Not so, for all the quest and hoped-for heaven! 
Surely God wearies of repentant wretches. 
And the prostrate flesh of wailing men cumbers 
The path of the world too much already. 
Let me stand up till I be dead, I cry. 
And if I sin I have eternity 
To bide the punishment. I loved thee, thou 
Art near me — 

Guenevere 
Beware! Thou dost o'erleap thyself, as ever 
At the moment's heat. Yet I do love thee sure 
No whit less that thou canst forget nice counsel 
In fond madness. Reason speaks to reason 
But unto heart only the heart can speak. 

Launcelot 
Heart calleth heart. 

Guenevere 
I But who knows not man's heart is but Fate's tool.] 
And somewhere in the depths of space our separate 
Fates call to each other through the void. 
And draw them near. 

Launcelot 
Let us not reck of Fate! 

Guenevere 
And life sweeps by us like a wind of flame. 
While we do wait unseeing in the caverns 
Of Fate, like blind things in the sea-caves. 

Launcelot 
Alas, why looms the shade of Fate thus on thee ? 

Guenevere 
I heard strange stories long ago amid 
The leaping shadows of my father's hearth 
And sea-howls echoed from the haunted crags, 
And oft the dreaded of my Danish forebears. 



44 GUENEVERE 

Wyrd, great goddess of Fate, hath loomed on me, 
Hath beckoned out of her marble mist, O Christ, 
And I draw on but cannot read her face. 
And 'yond her sitteth Darkness in the road. 
O God, if Fate be in thy hand, let her 
Not come upon me yet! 

Launcelot 
Nay, nay, thou art o'erwrought — who knows but I 
May drive Fate back from thee with might of love .? 
Man's will is half his destiny. 

Gueneverc 
She hath loved long the nations of the North, 
Sea-king and thane, how if she wait their daughter ? 
How if e'en now she smote me from the sun .? 

Launcelot 
Thou'rt rapt! 

Gueneverc 
Lo, at the window there, 'tis she! 

Launcelot 
'Tis what ? 

Gueneverc 
Wyrd! 'Tis Fate! See you not her face 
There in the blackness ? Do I not know thy face, 
Thou Hell-Queen ? Now do I learn its feature! 
Spare me, O Christ, Christ may not spare me from 
thee! 

Launcelot 
'Tis frenzy come upon thee! 
{Clamour %vithout. Gauntlet strikes door.) 
Nay, Thou'st said it! 
{Thunder and tuind. Flashes of lightning.) 

Voices {without.) 
Ah, traitor knight, we have thee! Come out! Open 
to us! Ho! 

Launcelot 
Madam, is there any armour here that I 
May cover my body 'gainst their numbers ? 



GUENEVERE 45 

Guenevere 
Alas, none, no armour here! 
(Knocking and cries again.) 

Launcelot 
O God, this shameful cry I may not suffer. 
Most noble Christian queen, if I am slain, good night. 
And pray for my soul. Know well my kinsmen — they 
Will save thee from the fire. 

Guenevere 
Nay, wit thou well, Sir Launcelot, if thou 
Art slain, I will take my death meekly as ever 
Did any woman. 

{Knocking. Cries. Sir Launcelot gets a bolt from the 
tvindow. They are battering at the door with a beam.) 

Launcelot 
Leave your dashing, cowards, and I will set 
Open the door. 

Mordred's Voice 
As well ye may, traitor, for there be men 
Here against all odds. 

Foices 
Eight! Twelve! Score! 

Guenevere 
Nay, have I not my knights ? 'Tis strange they 
Stir not at such clamour. 
{She opens the door to their chamber.) 

Launcelot 
'Tis no matter. 

Guenevere 
Sir Colgrevaunce! Sir Gareth! Ho! Wake, wake! 
They wake not, O God, they wake not, 
'Twas the tankard! Oh, treachery! 

{Sir Launcelot opens the door luide enough to admit one 
man. A big knight pushes in. Sir Launcelot fells 
him with the bolt, draws him in, and fastens the door.) 

Launcelot 
Off with his armour, help, madam! Do thou 



46 GUENEVERE 

Dash out the torches here when I am gone. 

{Outside there is an astonished silence. Hammering and 
cries again. Sir Launcelot, nozu armed, opens the 
door and rushes into their midst. They fight on the 
stair and in the corridor. Guenevere has put out the 
torches. Darkness broken only by -flashes of light- 
ning. Mordred rushes terrified into the room, fol- 
lozued by Agravame, whose helmet is broken off. 
They are revealed by a flash.) 
Guenevere 

Ah, God, Sir Mordred! 

{He IS unbolting the door to the knights' chamber. She 
snatches the great tankard from the floor and hurls it.) 

Coward, have that for thee! 

{Lightning. Mordred has escaped. A gravaine lies on 
the floor.) 

Dark! O God, dark! Oh, alas! 

Who is it there that draweth nearer me r 

Hell, is it thou revisitest me once more 

To-night? Nay, it hath armour! Speak! 

No armour but a mantle, speak, oh speak! 

Thou wilt not speak — I know thee! Oh, oh, oh! 

{Enter Sir Launcelot ivith torch. He places torch m 
sconce by door.) 
Launcelot 

What woe is this ? Thy cry hath roused the very 

Falcons in the mews. 
Guenevere 

One touched me in the darkness! I am mad! 

'Tis naught. Art thou hurt t 
Launcelot 

Nay, but do faint with dealing blows. Calm thee, 

Calm thee! Thou shalt not come to harm. Hear 

The wind moan! 
Guenevere 

How if the king knows not what hath befallen ? 

'Twere fond to think they would not tell him. 



GUENEVERE 47 

But he is just and blind — and yet 'twas Fate 
That came but now to my window. 

(Footsteps without.) 

Launcelot 
Some knight returns to — 
{King Arthur stands in the doorway.) 

Guenevere 
Jesu Mari, it is — ! 



ACT III 

The throne-end of the council-hall. The throne at the 
back to the right is under a blue canopy, spangled with 
gold, the whole elevated on a dais. To the left are 
arched doorways leading to the courts. Bells are ring- 
ing. Two knights on guard. 
First Knight 

'Tis the third bell for the court. 
Second Knight 

Aye, the trial of the queen hath caused delay 

In opening the tribunal. 

{Enter Sir Kay.) 
First Knight 

The queen will be tried, then, this day. What hast 

Thou heard in the matter, Sir Kay ? 
Kay 

Ask me not. Are mine ears then carrion dumps ^ 
Second Knight 

Much both false and true, methinks. Men say 

The queen would fain stay at the court, holding 

Her present station. There are two ways open: one 

To bide here as queen, the other to depart — 
First Knight 

With Launcelot to Joyous Garde ? 
Second Knight 

Aye, with Launcelot. 



48 GUENEVERE 

First Knight 
Then she is traitress to the king, sayest thou ? 

Second Knight 
Men say it. 

First Knight 
And the king ? 

Second Knight 
This treason hath power to stir a sea that tops 
The very promontories of men's souls. 

First Knipht 
Life were not dearer than her station. 'Twere 
Better she be dead than queen no longer. 

Second Knight 
Few there be that will arm to speed the queen's death. 

First Knight 
Few. Not I. 

Second Knight 
'Tis a dark hour. 

Kay 
Carp, carp! What then, what would ye have .? Wrong 
Or right, the queen hath courted hazards, wooed 
Mishaps. Can one head think for the world ? Once 
I said to her: "Look, madam, look to your road! 
Whatever your thoughts be of wrong or right, 
The world goes on its destined pace, and where 
You err 'tis you that fall. And men sing on 
Though your poor ears be stopped with death." 

Second Knight 
Forgotten of men, that were the tragedy 
Of death methinks. 

First Knight 
All may not be so wise as thou. Sir Kay. 

Kay 
All do not try. 

Second Knight 
I have spoke more of question than of what 
Mine ears have gleaned about this buzzing court. 



GUENEVERE 49 

Mark you. Sir Knights, mark you, and mark you 

well, 
Mark you the queen will be forgot in the bloody 
Strife that follows on this day. I have 
An inkling of Sir Mordred's schemes. Mark v'ou. 
The queen will be forgot. First Sir Mordred 
Strips Sir Launcelot's forces from the king, 
Then he revolts. His eyes are green long since. 

First Knight 
True. There is wind of it very like. 'Tis through 
The queen he strikes the king. Were she not here 
He'd find another way. 

Second Knight 
Guenevere had eyes that saw ere this, wherefore 
Hath she been blind and sightless in this treachery ? 

First Knight 
She hath a sorrow of her own, poor lady. 
Bleak winter yelling round her troublous heart. 

Second Knight 
They say the queen is contrite. 

First Knight 
I know not if her mood be so, my lord. 
She seemeth as one grieving for the end 
Her deed hath wrought, but holds not shame nor sor- 
row 
For the deed, feeling that heaven in some deep way 
Doth justify this love and madness. 

Second Knight 
I understand not such things, but I know 
That men may do these things, but women never. 

Kay 
Faugh! 'tis rubbish. Thus my cook will say 
"Bread must be so, and cake be thus, or they 
Will never rise." I tell thee 'tis all rubbish. 
Leaven is leaven, and fire, fire! And men 
And women burn and rise and fall, as bread 
And cake, alike. 'Tis rubbish but 'tis men's 



50 GUENEVERE 

Philosophy, I look not there for sense. 

Second Knight 
Here comes Sir Launcelot, and his kin with him 
Stepping with his steps. 

{Enter Sir Launcelot, Sir Bars, Sir Lionel, Sir Urre, and 
others.) 

Bors 
All your kindred and their followers 
Do stand without, ready and armed 
If there be need. We drank your wine with you 
When fortune ran it, and now we will drink water. 
Your will is ours — 

Launcelot 
Most noble kinsmen, I am much beholden 
To you. Give me your counsel, for if ever 
Man needed it, 'tis I at this time. 

Bors. 
My lord, this calm of thine is well — 

Launcelot 
'Twas spoken idly — what is counsel now ? 
Who thinketh I will let harm light on her 
Doth know me not. No red drop brims at my 
Heart's fountain but doth run for her. 

Urre 
And we are strong — 

Launcelot 
My sword hath rived in twain men's flesh ere this! 
For every sorrow laid on her I will 
Set wells of blood running in this vile court. 
And many filthy, lying mouths will set 
To eating up their ordure! Spread wreck — 

Bors 
Hold, my lord, the king comes. 

{Enter King Arthur, Sir Mordred, Sir Gawain, Dagonet, 
and the court. Few are armed. Arthur sits. Mor- 
dred and his party take their place on the right of the 
throne.) 



GUENEVERE 51 

Arthur 
My lords, good morrow. The queen comes not yet ? 
What justice is there to be rendered ? 
For the king must needs judge timely and wisely though 
The man hath vitals tortured on the rack. 

Gawatn 
My lord, here is a man whose fields are waste 
And grain downtrodden by your last assay 
Of hunting. 

Arthur 
Enough, enough, you shall he paid. Sir Kav, 
Look to it. 

Kay 
Aye, my lord, pay, pay, we are always paying. 
{Enter Cador and Breusf, drunk.) 

Arthur 
'Tis out of form and reverence that ye come 
Thus here, muddled with wine. 

Cador 
'Tis out of form and reverence what we have 
To tell the king. 'Tis somewhat for thy ears. 

Arthur 
Speak, then. 

Cador 
Last night before the feast, in a dark place — 
Some say the dark is devilled — before the cups 
At the feast, I heard two speak together. 

Arthur 
What said they, good fellow ? 

Cador 
Thou heardst it, Breuse, what was't ? I cannpt think. 
My lord, I wake not early thus all days. 

Breuse 
I cannot think. Sure the place was dark. 
And they spake ill. > 

Arthur 
Spake ill ? 



52 GUENEVERE 

Brcuse 
One was a kinsman of the king. 

Arthur 
Kinsman ? 

Cador 
High-voiced and hot. 

Arthur 
Who .? Cudgel thy brains, who : 

Breuse 
Who, sweet friend ? 

Cador 
Speak, thou leanest heavily! Leave rocking, 
Thou art not the ship of state. 

Breuse 
'Tis thou, thou weight. Speak! 

Arthur 
Take these two hence, Gawain. Kinsmen } Spake 
ill? 

Mordred 
'Tis naught, my lord. It is a drunken fancy 
Now I do think me, Dagonet did sing 
A ballad of King Mark's black treachery 
Against Tristram his kinsman. This same tale 
Is but the coinage of their drunken ears 
From the same song. 

Arthur 
Treachery — did they say treachery ? 

Mordred 
Spake ill, no treachery. 

Arthur 
Didst thou sing so, boy ? 

Dagonet 
Not I, my lord. 

Mordred 
'Twas then another. 

Arthur 
Very like, 'tis naught. Let us begin again. 



GUENEVERE 53 

Gaivatn 
Here is a woman, lord, whose husband scorns 
And beats her Hke a dog. 

fi'^oman 
My lord, King Arthur, by your leave. I loved 
This man with a mad, woman's love, and he — 
My lord, he loved me. But he spurns me now, 
And flouts me in my face. He hath struck me 
And I bore with that, cursed me and I took that. 
But he hath wronged me, and I will — 

y^rthur 
Wronged thee ? He hath wronged thee ^ 

fFoman 
Yea, shamefully. 

Arthur 
Calm thee, calm thee, thou wretched broken wretch. 
Thou shalt have justice, there is much too much 
Of wrong done in the world. 

fFoman 
Nay, I would not have him hurt, my lord. 

Kay 
Aye, that is the way of woman. Pardon me. 
My lord Arthur, I must speak — 'tis wisdom. 
Woman, if thou dost love a man, and fain 
Would keep his love, show not the excess of thy 
Afl^ection and feed him well. Man is a brute 
To be held by the muzzle and not by the heart- 
chords. 

Arthur 
Ho, Sir Kay, thy words o'ershoot thee, man, 
Thou hast been seneschal so long that thou 
Dost think all things concerned with food. 

Kay 
If I am cynical of men, my lord, 
'Tis this, 

Arthur 
'Tis wherefore ? 



54 GUENEVERE 

Kay 
My lord, I have seen them eat. 

Gawain 
Here is another woman who hath wrongs 
She cannot tell — 

Arthur 
So have we all, woman. 

Ga^uain 
She wears her wits awry. 

Kay 
'Tis no new ailment. 

Gawain 
My lord, she hath — 

Herald 
The queen, make way for the queen! 

Arthur 
Woman, thou shalt return. 

{Enter Guenevere. A noise of cries and zvatling comes 
from the outer courts. Guenevere takes her stand at 
the left of the throne. Launcelot comes nearer to the 
front.) 

Arthur 
Madam, there are charges here to-day 
Imperilling thy life and Launcelot's honour. 
What noise dins in the court ? 

Gawain 
My lord, it is the people making dole, 
And wailing lest the queen be burned. 

Arthur 
Lay it, such clamour is unseemly. 

Launcelot 
My lord, let me speak. 

Arthur 
Ah, Sir Launcelot, Sir Launcelot, 
Thee have I loved in gone days passing well, 
And now thou hast cast sorrow over me. 
Once I mind me, 'fore mine eyes were weary 



GUENEVERE 55 

Feeding on their dear faces, thou didst take 

My knights on the Quest of the Holy Grail, and 

ne'er 
That goodly company met whole again. 
But now thou hast done worse and ta'en away 
More than my Round Table. And thou hast edged 
Treachery 'twixt me and thee. 

Launcelot 
Hear me, my lord. 

Cries 
Hear him, hear him! Hear him not! Sir Launcelot! 

Gawain 
My lord, go slow. To lose a noble friend 
Is like a loss of the dear life, is such 
A loss; for a man's friends are his life. 
Go slow, a day may show the evil, but 
The time is longer that makes manifest 
The good. 

Arthur 
Doth baneful Fate will thus that we must see 
To understand, be blind to act ? Oh, would 
That I were blind in this. For well I know 
That now indeed is my whole kingdom mischieved. 
(Cries without.) 

There will be war. Sir Launcelot, now, 'twixt me 
And thee, thy blood and my blood, cruel strife, 
Tearing the vitals of this realm. Mine arm 
Is powerless for seeing what will fall. 
Madam, I rejoice to see thee weep, 
'Twere best wept sooner when there was some boot 

Launcelot 
Then I will out, willy, nilly. King Arthur, 
I own the debt I owe to thee, for thou 
Didst give me knighthood, and of thee 
Have I had honour and much worship. Yet 
In all thy quarrels have I lent what aid 
I might in thy behalf, shoulder and heart 



56 GUENEVERE 

Have been thine, buckler and helm and sword, 
Vassal and steed, been thine. Nor have I cast 
Green eyes of envy qu thy station, nor 
Champed a restive bit, hearing thy fame 
Exalted, as have some nearer of kin 
To thee, I name them not. 

Arthur 
Why do ye glare on my nephew Mordred .? 
But 'tis naught. 

Launcelot 
But I did add 

Ever what inches I might unto thy stature. 
In all thy heat thou canst not yet forget 
How many a venture have we had together 
Of joy or woe. Therefore, my lord, for this 
Old brotherhood, I pray thee think on me, 
And judge not rashly. 

Arthur 
Yea, truly must I think on thee, yea, truly, 
Bitter or sweet, still must I think on thee. 

Launcelot 
Nay, think what thou wilt then, on my soul I care 
Not. I cannot sit as thou and weigh 
Vantage 'gainst vantage, and knit prudence up. 
Search whether 't be good or bad or what. 
Teach mine eyes to rob their sockets of flight, 
And stop mine ears with silence. 'Tis fitter work 
For hermits and white hairs, not men. I know 
No honied speech nor do I value aught 
The slippered- dalliance of the favoured few. 
But strike with this arm what harmeth me or them 
I love. 'Tis many times I championed her 
Whilst thou sat dreaming high emprise or plan 
To win wide rumour for thy name. Thinkst thou, 
God's life, I can no longer wield this sword ? 
'Tis blood for blood, hate for hate thou'lt have ? 
She is the queen, who then shall judge her .? 



GUENEVERE 57 

Arthur 
Stay, Sir Launcelot, thou art mad in thy heat. 
'Tis hot blood that hath cost thee dear ere this. 

Launcelot 
\ Thou knowst 'tis fellowship and humility 
\ That kept me thine, not lack of realm or power. 
\ Lands have I, kinsmen and followers, 
* And all are hers whom through me ye would shame — 
' Therefore show me him that dares accuse her. 

Arthur 
The clamour in the court increases. 

Gail' am 
My lord, it cannot be stilled. Some there be 
That think the queen condemned to be burnt, and 

they 
Bewail piteously her death. But some 
Deem she is cleared of blame, and they do growl 
And mutter underneath their breaths, and curse 
Loudly this tribunal. 

Arthur 
But how if she be pardoned here .? 
(Notse in Sir MordrrJ's party to the right.) 

Gawain 
My lord, to my eyes, judging as best I may, 
If she bide here there will be blood and strife, 
Whether she be burned or pardoned. Either 
Way is dangerous. 

Launcelot 
Nay, hear ye this, if she stay not as queen. 
She shall not stay at all. 

Bors 
Yea, think ye. we will let the queen be burnt .^ 

Urre 
To arms for the queen! 

Arthur 
Silence! 



58 GUENEVERE 

Cries 
To arms, to arms! For the king! For Mordred! For 
the queen! 

Arthur 
Mordred ? what cause is that ? 

Guenevere 
I pray you, Sir Knights — 

Cries 
The queen speaks! Let us hear the queen! 

Kay 
Stop your gabble, fools, and hear the queen! 

Voice 
She hath been overlong silent now. 

Arthur 
Silence, she is yet the queen! 

Cries 
The queen! the queen! 

Guenevere 
I will put oft' thy crown and robe before 
I speak in trial. 

Arthur 
Speak. 'Tis well! 

Guenevere 
Lords and vassals of this island realm, 
Hear me speak. I will say briefly and 
Have done. My lords, I am a woman, whom 
The gods built bigger than their wonted mould. 
Wilder, more diverse, waging fiercer war 
And conflict 'twixt the good and evil. He 
That hath pinions larger than the common flight 
Must needs take greater pains lest they be sullied. 
My lord Arthur, I have ever loved 
Thee since I came from Cameliard, 
My father's land, loved thee as men love saints. 
Not with the petty pulsing of the veins. 
Nor jealousies nor heat of mad desire. 
But at the topmost of my soul's bent. 



GUENEVERE 59 

Art hul- 
ls that the love men ask of women — good men ? 
I know not. 

Gueneverc 
Since thou'rt ideal, they that love thee love 
Thee as a mystic symbol, or a bodied 
Soul of some dear thing, not as frail man. 
Thou hast not known the low brown earth, nor it 
Known thee. So wast thou ever loved, and so 
Thou hast loved me, however much thou'st loved. 
For thou knowst well, my lord, this is no husband's 
Nor no lover's jealousy that moves 
Thee in this sifting trial thus, but is 
The jealous eye the king bends on the crystal 
Perfectness of his long-dreamed-of court. 
Thy kingdom is thy spouse, my lord, not T. 
I fear I speak o'erboldly. 

Arthur 
Nay, 'tis no matter. Speak. 

Guenevere 
Then, ah, then — 

Arthur 
Well, well, then — .' 

Guenevere 
I have loved Sir Launcelot too. All the pomp 
And glory of this world, of sights and sound. 
Of summer air and downs of May, of stars 
And white dawn leaping over dewy fields. 
Of life and love and the little moods men know, 
And bossed arms, and chivalry, and jousts. 
Of blood and wild, unquenchable revenge. 
Of bowers drunk with music and sweet sound, 
All this my woman's heart hath found to love 
In him. Sir Launcelot. So have I loved 
You both, but differently. Methinks that God 
Hath placed in me such high, opposing tides 
That if my soul be shipwrecked he could blame 



6o GUENEVERE 

Me not. 

Arthur 
Madam, me seemeth 'twas all love with you. 
Were there not other things stirring at court ? 

Guenevere 
The diverse uses of the world make men 
Take love only as a part of the whole 
Existence, but women — as a jewel liveth 
By the light, so live women by love. 

Arthur 
Haply. And now ? 

Guenevere 
Now — I speak not for the dm. 

Arthur 
What if ye be our queen no longer ? 

Launcelot 
Go with me, thou shalt go Vvith me, my lady! 

Arthur 
Queen no more! 

Cries 
With Launcelot! Queen no more! With Launcelot! 

Guenevere 
Nay, nay, not Launcelot, let that have done. 
Steal thou my crown, I go not hence with him 
To Joyous Garde, to be his love. Nay, nay. 
I will not so. Sure life turneth bitter 
In the cup, and I must dash it from me. 

Arthur 
Where wilt thou turn if thou art queen no longer ? 

Guenevere 
If he rescue me hence, know ye 'twill be 
To the sisters by Boscastle. There shall I 
Be buried from this world, and let my soul 
Crowd with its persons my life's stage. But if 
I bide here — 

Cries 
Thou'lt burn! Treason! (Confusion.) 



GUENEVERE 6i 

Guenevere 
Aye, leave your howling, poor lean curs, 
Fattened with this man's collops. Ah! Sir Mordred, 
Why hast thou been so keen to fill black sails ? 
Art thou the giant Jubaunce or Goliath ? 
For I know well who set these on — 

Mordred 
Madam, I pray thee, I am all for peace. 

Guenevere 
Yea, very like, — my lord Arthur, look — 
Thy dove of peace hath need of armour plate 
Beneath his quills. 

{She tears off Mordred's cloak. He stands m his breast- 
plate.) 
Ah, cowards have ever need of steel, I leave 
Thee now to them, kind leeches, they will suck 
Thy veins dry to a drop. But who am I 
That speak ? (She starts out.) 

Arthur 
Nay, madam, nay, God's life, nay, dost think — ^. 
Stay, thy cause must still be tried. 

Guenevere 
Queen no more. Aye, I have had my hour. 
This hour my life hath spoken in full tone. 
No more I strive in the world, for I am ashamed 
Enough of men already. May I not 
Go hence ? I am all undone methinks. 

Launcelot 
'Tis I speak for her. Sir, what man shall judge her .^ 
My lord kinsmen, close round. 

{The kinsmen surround the queen. Exeunt. Mordred 
and his party follow. The crowd vanishes. Sir 
Gawain and King Arthur remain.) 

Arthur 
'Tis blood for wrong. Take sword and follow me. 

Gawatn 
But first have brought thine arms, my lord, 'twere folly 



62 GUENEVERE 

Else to venture. 

Arthur 
Nay, God forearmed me in this matter. 

G aw a in 
Give over theories — 

Arthur 
Hold me not, or I may do thee hurt. 
Come, come, let the horn blow. 
{The commotion without lessens. Enter knight.) 

Knight 
My lord, they have buffeted their way 
Through the outer gate, and they are gone by horse 
Toward Boscastle. The people cheer for joy 
At their escape. Let make pursuit ? Or not r 
(A bell rings. Enter Sir Kay.) 

Kay 
My lord, Mordred hath seized the south tower, and is 
In open rebellion. 

Arthur 
Oh, traitors all! Oh, traitor roof that falls 
Not on this day. (Flings off his crown.) Into the dust, 

thou ring 
Of wretchedness! To arms! To arms! 
(A crozud pours into the room. Confusion. All the bells 
of the castle are clanging.) 

Cries 
To arms! To arms! To arms! {Without.) Mordred 

for king! Mordred for king! 
To arms! 

ACT IV 

Reception-hall of the convent on the cliffs near Boscastle. 
To the left, at the back, a flight of seven steps leads to the 
cloister corridor, beyond ^uhlch is the garden with a wall 
and trees at the end. On the left, near the front, is a 
prie-dieu with flowers and lighted candles. At the 



GUENEVERE 63 

back of the room a kind of Roman seat, long, with a low 
back and armpieces. Benches on the right. Outside 
in the garden it is early dawn, and beyond the trees 
shines the golden sky. Save for the sound of the surge 
below, there is a great stillness over the world. Two 
novices enter, and light new candles on the prie-dieu. 

Enter Saint Morwena, the abbess, and with her GuE- 
NEVERE in white dress and veil. On her breast 
she wears the emblem of the Sacred Heart. 
Morwena 

Hast thou found peace, my daughter r 
Guenevere 

Yea, mother, as doth the moon, whose burnt-out sphere 

Keeps one face turned to sunward, so 

The dead globe of my Hfe hath one side ht, 

The other dark. I am pale grown and weak. 

And my poor body hath forgot its splendour. 
Morwena 

There is another splendour in whose light 

All flesh is grass. 
Guenevere 

Now my soul calls to me with a hundred 

Tongues, the heralds of my spirit. 
Morwena 

Evil is no thing within itself, 

But is a lacking of the vital good. 

And of thy life what man is there shall judge 

Save our sweet father, Christ ? 
Guenevere 

Gentle brother Christ, father and brother. 

'Tis like to something lived in sleep thou stirrest. 
Morwena 

Life is a restless sleep. 
Guenevere 

The dreaming king forgot me, and another 

Loved me, and I loved him. That was my right 

To live. Think you I should have starved the life 



64 GUENEVERE 

I had for some uncertain good to come ? 

Moriuena 
Belike that were not all of life, this love. 
God gave man love to lead him out of self. 
And upward — 

Gucncvcre 
Man's self and God, I know not where they meet, 
Nor where they part. 

Morwena 
To lead us out of self and upward. 
For all things do but school us to God's end. 

Guenevere 
Very like. Writ round the cell of our narrow lives 
Are runes we cannot read. Our days are but 
A footbridge 'tween two worlds — nay, I do speak 
By rote, knowing naught My brain doth lose the thread. 
Once at the sacrament methought I saw 
A figure in the likeness of a child. 
And lo! his face shined bright as any fire. 
And smote itself into the blessed bread. 
I never had a child whose little hands 
Had drawn me from the tawdry passing world 
Into the mother's holy chamber. Nay — 
'Twas only empty hours and cold hearth, 
And young love beating at the door without. 
Woe to the woman whose happiest days do come 
To be the days she most laments. 

Morwena 
Thou hast thought much within these quiet walls, 
Meditation is fair Solitude's 
True sister. 

Guenevere 
Yea, thought much, and well, well have I paid 
For the worldly draught my cup hath brimmed. And yet 
Meseems that there are others that pay less 
And sin far more. Some there be that sin 
Vilely and often, and then forget it straight — 



GUENEVERE 65 

Morwena 
Him that forgotteth God hath forgotten. 

Gueneverc 
And the world forgets Hkewise and blameth not. 

Morwena 
Yea, they be fools that live their lives, and do 
Perceive the truth as little as do spoons 
Perceive the taste of broth. Their clouds and thine 
Have different heights. 

Guenevere 
And some torture themselves for every little 
Wrong, pondering their deeds, and the world 
Curseth them — 

Moi-%vena 
Yet they are blest, for they do meditate. 
And he that thinketh truly cannot die. 
But the thoughtless are as dead already. 
He that is wise doth choose the thoughtful life 
As a clever woman Hndeth the right colour. 
Long is the night to him that cannot sleep, 
Long is the journey to the weary man. 
And long is the span of life to the foolish. Take 
Some quiet hour at sundown in some peaceful 
Place, and look about the vineyard 
Of thy soul. The moon is silver clear by night. 
The water glimmers in the sun, but be 
Thou shining in thy meditation. 

Guenevere 
For some that is an easy thing, but not 
For all. 

Morzuena 
Aye, passion breaks through unreflecting minds 
As rain through ill-thatched houses, so the sage 
Hath written. Oh, what a fool is man that sets 
His lips unto the brimming cup of passion. 
It is a galling drink that kindles thirst. 
And sates but with exhaustion. But thine 



66 GUENEVERE 

Is drained. Daughter, thou dost well to pray 
And keep thy vigils, for to-morrow is 
The day thou tak'st thy vows, is't not ? 
Then thou mayst wear the garb of peace always. 

Guenevere 
Yea, mother, take the vow relinquishing 
All the vain idols of the world, to purge 
My flesh of earthly desire, and strip my soul 
Naked before God 

Mo7-%vena 
Bless thee, my daughter, I rejoice that thou 
Alt ready. 

Gucneverr 
Ready — ! 

Morwena 
Why dost thou stare and round thine eyes so, seeing 
Naught .? 

Guenevere 
Mother, I do fear I know not what 
That yet may fall. Last night I had a dream. 
And in it I did see a tournament 
Of ladies fair and noble knights, 

Whose spear-heads flickered when they moved like flames. 
Then at the hurtling that did follow there. 
All my wild blood boiled, and the strong, sweet taint 
Of the world came back into my veins. How do 
I know but having given up my worldly drink 
I yet be ta'en athirst for Camelot and glory ? 

Morwena 
Jesu defend me! 

Guenevere 
Then were I lost indeed, O God, if I 
Do leave off woman and turn saint, give up 
The world and cannot keep my heaven. Be neither 
Spiritual nor fleshly, saint nor queen. 

Moriuena 
Thou beatst too high, these words are wild. Let God 



GUENEVERE 67 

Choose for thee, daughter. Our hearts are frail 
Barks for rough seas. Let God choose for thee. 
{The matin bell rings, the light of full day is m the garden.^ 

Morwcna 
The matin bell. Go thou, child, peace be with thee. 
(/« the cloister corridor the sisters are passing. Guene- 
vere looks at them till they are past, then follows 
after. The abbess stands before the prie-dicu and 
crosses herself. Enter Sister Agatha.) 

Agatha 
Mother, I cannot pray for watching her face. 
Her soul doth seem to feed upon itself. 

Morivena 
How, child r 

Agatha 
The queen — there seems a clashing of two spheres 
Within her frame. Last night I heard — thou knowst 
Her cell is next to mine — last night the queen 
Did clatter in her sleep, and clapped her hands 
And cried out: "Ho, well struck! Avoid thy horse!" 
And other speeches from the lists. Strange peace 
For one that goes to take her vows so soon. 

Morwena 
She hath already told me of this dream. 
What song is that .? 

A gatha 
'lis Dagonet, the queen's page. The lad 
Is thoughtless to sing thus wMthin these walls. 

Dagonet {at the gate) 

Look out, my lady fair, and see 
The lustre of the night, 
The moon beneath her canopy 
Sails beauteous and bright — 
{Enter Dagonet.) 

Madam, there is a knight at the gate, I hear 
His horse's panting — I saw him near. 
Haply it is King Arthur come to see 



68 GUENEVERE 

My lady — ah, if it were ! — and behind, there 
Southward on Tintagel Road, a cloud 
Of dust like men-at-arms galloping. Haply 
I may hold his bridle while he stays. 

Agatha 
The king .^ 

Morwena 
King Arthur ? 

Agatha (going to the corridor) 
'Tis he. Madam, I will leave you. {Exit.) 
(Enter King Arthur.) 

Arthur 
God keep thee, madam. The (]ueen — ? 

Morivena 
God keep thee, my lord. My lord, I am an old 
Woman, and I speak my thoughts. I fear thy coming 
Is but poorly placed. To-morrow the queen 
Doth give her vows, leaving forever all 
The transitory uses of this world — 

Arthur 
Ere this, ere this, I had come had not the brawls 
That broke out on the trial day kept all 
The realm bestead. Sir Launcelot's falseness is 
Forgot in larger woes. 

Morwena 
Where is Sir Launcelot ? 

Arthur 
Gone to his lands in Fraunce. 

Morwena 
And thou ? 

Arthur 
My mantle clingeth heavier than mail. 
Now am I like a father whose one son. 
The sole issue of his loins, is slain. At morn 
He minds him of his son's going, and at eve 
His coming. Seeth his heir's house wasted, 
The chamber of the winds, where harp sounds not. 



GUENEVERE 69 

Nor any joy within the court as once. 
Wherefore am I come to bid farewell 
To her that shortly goes to take her leave 
Of life. Once was she queen, and well I know 
Of her and me that each shall not see other 
More with fleshly eyes. 

Morwena 
I fear me lest the sight of thee will rouse 
The red tide of her blood and kindle heats 
To her soul's detriment. She cometh now. 
Show her all reverence, my lord. 
(Extt the abbess. Enter Guenevere from the right.) 

Guenevere 
My lord. 

Arthur 
How dost thou, my lady — and queen ? 

Guenevere 
My lord, I have turned from the world's eyes that 
Were bent so long hotly upon me. And thou ? 

Arthur 
I — I, but 'tis no matter. I am come to say 
Farewell. 

Guenevere 
Farewell ? 

Arthur 
And pity have I more for thee, indeed 
Since I have suffered, suffered humanwise. 
And yet I do not blame, thou didst no more 
Than I to bring the false dome down — no more. 
Together we wrought havoc, thou with thy love 
Loosing bonds not to be loosed, and I 
Seeing men not as men but as symbols vague. 
Star-gazing I did lose the earthly road, 
And visionary flashes blinded me 
That I knew not the common lives. 

Guenevere 
Such blindness doth tempt men as dark doth thieves. 



70 GUENEVERE 

Arthur 
The man blindly good is good to himself 
Alone — to others he is evil. 
And dreamers should be dreamers for themselves 
Alone — for plain men facts! And thou? 

Guenevere 
What boots it us to weigh one 'gainst the other ? 
I have fought the rich life-passion from my heart, 
Pray God I turn not back to it. 

Arthur 
Yea, cleave to this quiet thou hast found, 
Hug silence to thee, lest thou shouldst feel perchance 
All the deep wrongs that men can do. Feigned love 
That covers deep designs, ingratitude 
And thankless greed, kinsmen at war. 
Murder, rapine, blood, despair, and hate, 
Trusts betrayed, and confidence despised, 
I have felt them all — all. Truly 
I have known the low brown earth, have bit the dirt. 
Ah, madam, pray to God to leave thee here 
Till Death shatters the flower of thy life. 
{There is the sound of horsemen ivtthout, and the notse 
of arms.) 

Guenevere 
What clangour is that r 

Arthur 
'Tis my horsemen, I did ride ahead of them 
Some space. 

Guenevere 
Yea, my lord Arthur, all of life is not 
This baseness that thou tellst me of. Are these 
Then enemies of thine — nay, my lord, they follow thee 
Far as the land lasts to the sea. I know 
There be sweet human things in life for men; 
The handclasp of old friends, and friends to share 
Sadness and joy, old voices and old sounds. 
Sunlight, and walled gardens, and wild moors, 



GUENEVERE 71 

Eye that readeth eye, and heart, heart — 
Ah, my lord, there is more sweet than gall — 

Arthur 
Tell me not — 

Gue7ievere 
Or gladly we take the gall as well as sweetness. 
For whether be the sunlight fierce or mild, 
What man but fain would watch the shadow grow 
And on the dial of his life mark time. 
Rather than darkness and unhoured ways. 
{Dagonet sings without.) 
Ah, there is Dagonet singing a lay 
Unto thy knights. It is an old song that, 
And tells how Joseph of Arimithy came 
Into this land. I have heard it oft at court, 
At Pentecost, my lord, dost thou remember } 

Arthur 
Nay, I know not, madam, that time is gone. 
And now farewell, I may not tarry, fare 
Thee well. I know of thee and me that each 
Shall not see other ever more with fleshly eye. 
And now I must needs hasten and depart 
Back to Camelot and the court and strife. 
But afterward shall sail to Avalon, 
And change my life from this world. 
{From the chapel come the voices of the nuns singing 
matins.) 

Guenevere 
Not meet again ? 

Arthur 
No mortal meeting. 

Guenevere 
Alas! 

Arthur 
Nay, madam, nay, haply thou mayest 
Be queen, when all the goodly knights I lost 
In diverse quests and ventures will awake 



72 GUENEVERE 

From their long sleep, and form in heaven again 
The King's Round Table, perfect at last, and there 
With shining arms will joust in Christ's fair courts 
For diamonds like suns and carcanets 
Of little stars. 

Guenevere 
Ah, God, all the gall of the world takes not 
The dreamer from his dreaming! Thou speakst fair. 
But slowly, slowly through the air of time 
The drops of life fall on eternity. 

Arthur 
Yea, they pass slowly, perhaps no man 
Can count them, yet they pass. And when thou hast 
Set down thy staff and book, and they have laid 
Thee in cold sepulchre, thou shalt not stir 
To note the passing years, nor count the moons. 
For drums or tramplings or the utmost heat 
And noise of human conflict cannot break 
The mood and spirit of the dead. 

Guenevere 
My lord, tarry! 
{Horns and bugles sound outside?) 

Arthur 
Lo! I leave in thee the fairest part 
Of all my fair, sad past. Yet — 

Guenevere 
Tarry 

Arthur 
I know not yet what orisons ye pray. 
But beg thee 'member me, and if thou seest 
Me nevermore again, pray for my soul. 
Farewell. {He goes.) 

Guenevere 
My lord, my lord Arthur, do not leave me! 
{He looks hack once and is gone.) 
I love thee too, thou wilt not leave me! 
Take me with thee to Camelot and the court. 



GUENEVERE 73 

(She runs out after King Arthur.) 
Arthur! Arthur! 

(The ehant in the chapel leaves off, and noiu the frightened 
sisters rush into the room. Sister Agatha stands at 
the head of the stairs. Enter the abbess. Outside 
there is a clatter of horses departing.) 
Agatha 
Mother! 

Moriuena 
Yea, the queen hath a wild mood. 
Agatha 

God, O God, King Arthur hath ridden away. 
And she weeps after him Hke mad. There, there! 
She hath torn off her veil, the other hand 

Hath rent the emblem from her breast, snatched out 
The Sacred Heart. 

Sisters 
Alas! Oh! 

(Enter Guenevere. She drags her veil in her left hand, 
with her right she has torn off the Sacred Heart.) 

Guenevere 
Oh, I am lost! Curse me, mother, curse 
You sisters, and let me die! 

Aloriuena 
Nay, daughter — 

Guenevere 
Nay, thou shalt not touch me. I am she. 
That woman that gave up the world's lusts 
For her spirit's health. And now 1 have trampled down 
That shrine! 

Morwena 
Leave us, you sisters. My daughter, let God choose — 

Guenevere 

1 have lost both kingdoms, O God, and now my soul 
Is shipwrecked. Jesu, have mercy! Mother of God, 
Be merciful! 

(She falls toward the prie-dieu.) 



74 GUENEVERE 



ACT V 

A year later. Same room in the convetit of Boscastle. It 
ts near dusk, but the afterglow lingers, and the garden 
and cloisters are filled with red light. Guenevere lies 
asleep on the Roman bench. The abbess and Sister 
Agatha attend her. On the right sit three nuns. Dag- 
onet hovers about the room. Sir Launcelot talks with 
the abbess. 
Morwena 

'Tis nigh four seasons gone since thou hast seen 

Her. A httle and thou'st been too late. 

She tarryeth not much longer in this world. 
Launcelot 

How she lies faded, poor lady, like a rose 

When the rough wind sucks the freshness from its 
heart. 
Morwena 

That day my lord Arthur came and went, 

That was the zenith of her spirit's star, 

That day after vigils and hard fasts her blood 

Burst bond and cried for Camelot and glory. 

Then flesh fought spirit. Hardly she won, but lies 

Here broken with the struggle as thou seest. 

I know not if this may be well or no 

To tear the heart-roots of your being out, 

Seeking to be other than God made you. 
Launcelot 

Would God had either made us as we yearn 

To be, or else had made us what we are 

Without the yearning! 
Morwena 

She will soon waken, wait. Thou sayst, my lord, 

King Arthur is slain, she hath had word of it. 

What of Mordred, that vile traitor chaff 

That maketh foul the wind ? 



GUENEVERE 75 

Launcclot 
Ah, madam, he is snatched from his base deahng 
Here, he too is slain, and Camelot 
Is but a den of plots and arms. Despair 
Shadows the hearts of good men. Alas, 
The glory of the realm of Logris 
Is departed. 

Dagonrt 
All day have horses' feet clicked by — 'tis knights 
That ride to court. 

Launcclot 
Yea, boy, there be jousts and feastings there. 
{A distant hell sounds.) 

Agatha 
Saint Necton's tide-bell, 'tis later than 
I deemed. 

Moriucna 
See how strangely the sun's red lingers yet, 
.'Xs if 'twere loth to yield the free, hot course 
To the subtle-working, grey night. Likewise 
Meseems our lady the queen still doth glow- 
After her life's hot span, and her veins pulse 
With the rich past. How faint and tender the bell! 
O Death, how subtle art thou in thy coming. 
But afterward long night and haply stars. 

Agatha 

o 

Rather say that like the moon she burned 
In beauty all the night of sin, and then 
Did fade in the new day. 

Morwena 
Peace, Sir Launcelot! Sure I am grown foolish 
Thinking on her, poor lady. 

Launcclot 
Nay, likewise all my thoughts have been on her. 
Whether in joyless wood or when 
The thin prow scudded o'er the midnight swell, 
Or Breton thatches waited in the harbour. 



76 GUENEVERE 

In every land my memory sought her. 

Dagonet 
And I. 'Tis many songs I read of late 
In this lone house, of ladies beautiful 
That suffered and are dead. And always when 
I read I thought of her, and said she too, 
She shall be beautiful in rhyme till the world's 
End. 

Launcelot 
Aye, and her name into men's thoughts shall bring 
The peerless ventures and sweet courtesy 
Of this the summer of all time. For still 
Her soul is as her station sovran, and when 
The wild sowing of man shall be gleaned and the world 

be garnered 
She shall be queen at fairer courts than these — 

Monuena 
Nay, nay, my lord, let not thy heart o'ersweep thee. 
Daughter, thou spakest thoughtlessly, thou art 
Yet young and thy young piety is hard. 
Is there a moon, was't yesternight ? This old 
Head is so racked with care I mind me not. 

Agatha 
I know not either. 

Dagonet 
Yea, mother, 'tis but one night to the full. 
Look! The sky stirs now faintly with light. 

Morwena 
Hush, she wakes. Sir Launcelot, go thou 
Walk in the cloister. We will prepare 
Her for thy coming when 'tis well. 

Launcelot 
Pray you be not o'erlong — I know not how much 
Of this frail life she have. 
{Exit Sir Launcelot.) 

Guenevere {waking) 
Ah, 'tis dusk! Even at this time it was 



GUENEVERE 77 

That in my sleep I dreamed of Camelot. 

Morvjena 
Camelot, my daughter ? 

Guenevere 
But yet somehow it was a brighter place 
And newer city. The sun sank and the slim 
Moon lifted her pale beauty into heaven, 
And dome and turret glittered in the light. 
Then Mary the Mother of God came and took 
My hand, and her voice fell sweet upon my weary 
Ear — 

Mor^^Jena 
Speak to her, boy. 

Dagonet 
Alas, I may not for looking on her face! 
Hark, there is the nightingale, my lady. Look! 
Too — the moon riseth! 

Guenevere 
The moon ■ — 

Dagonet 
The moon like a white flame in the trees, like liquid 
Silver in among the leaves. Mother, 
I cannot speak! Oh, my lady! The moon! 

Guenevere 
Distantly rose Camelot out 
Of the silver plain. 

Dagonet 
And the nightingales — 

Guenevere 
Aye, all the nightingales in Cameliard 
Cannot sing my woes, nor every bird 
That sings his tragic plaints of passionate 
Mischance can wail my sorrows. 

Mortvena 
Nay, madam, sit, thou hast not strength to stand. 

Guenevere 
I was a woman and I needed love. 



78 GUENEVERE 

I was a queen to long for courts about. 

Strong lords and ladies and gay raiment. 

I am a weary human thing that needeth 

Rest. Rest is the thing we most do hunger 

For and know it not. Sleep, sleep, it is 

But the gateway of pure rest's abode. Nay, let 

Me have sleep's sister, black-garbed death. For 

queens 
Like other women have strong need of death 
At times — oh, I am childish grown — 

Morwena 
Madam, my daughter — 

Guenevere 
Whose spurs clink walking in the cloister there ? 

Mor%vena 
One come to see thee and to say farewell. 

Guenevere 
Farewell, 'tis always farewell in this world. 
Is it Sir Launcelot .'' 

Morwena 
Yea, daughter, he. 

Guenevere 
Let him enter. 
{Enter Launcelot.) 
How dost. Sir Launcelot r Art well i Whence comest ? 

Launcelot 
From Fraunce, my lady. And thou ? 

Guenevere 
Thou seest I have found peace. 
In Fraunce this twelvemonth gone ? 

Launcelot 
When the sly Mordred bore an open front. 
With vassals and kinsmen I had saved the king. 
But he would have it not. And I distraught 
Got me to my father's land again. 

Guenevere 
And now .? 



GUENEVERE 79 

Launcelot 
Now having word of the king's death, I knew 
The ravage and the spoil within this isle, 
And hasted into boats and blew three days. 
And drove into this tortured little harbour, 
That thou mightst leave thy sorrows here and go 
With me — 

Morwena 
With thee r 

Guenevcre 
Thee? 

Launcelot 
The many-towered castle on the heights, 
Below, a little Breton hill with trees 
And slow white sheep, and farther west the grey 
Rocks smoking in the sun at ebb-tide, heather 
And pasture-bell upon the seawind mingling — 

Guenevere 
My lord, thou knowst through thee and me is this 
Whole kingdom sore bestead, and the sails of the realm 
Veered from the old lodestar of purity. 
The Round Table is broke and many knights 
Tasted the dolours of death through me and thee. 
Therefore I pray thee now, Sir Launcelot, 
Look thou not on me evermore. And well 
As I have loved thee, I may not see thee 
Again, for now mine eye it turneth not 
To the worldward but to God, for my soul's health 
Lest I be damned. 

Dagonet 
My lady, there be worse than thou now saints 
In heaven. 

Guenevere 
Thou art o'erfond, child. Then, Sir Launcelot, 
Much as I have loved thee, for Christ's sake I may 
Not see thee. Therefore I pray that thou 
Depart; and pray for me — 



8o GUENEVERE 

Launcelot 
I have come far to see thee, but I will 
Not trouble thee, poor lady, with fond words. 
Sithence thou'lt have it so, I go, yet I 
Sail never on the sea to Fraunce again 
But to a hermitage, and make my prayers 
For thy soul's rest and mine. I pray thee then, 
Before I go, madam, kiss me once 
And nevermore. 

Gueneveri' 
Nay, that may I never do — 

Launcelot 
Farewell. 

Guenevere 
And for our old love's sake. Sir Launcelot, 
Do this; when I am dead, come thou with seven 
Knights, and carry me to Glastonbury 
Where my lord Arthur lieth. Pray God 1 have 
Not power to see thee with my worldly eyes 
Again for my soul's sake. 
{He starts to go out.) 

Morwcna 
She hath o'erspent her strength. 

Dacronet 

o 

She sleeps. 

Moriuena 
I know not if she w^ake again. Thou needst 
Not go. Sir Launcelot. 

Morwena 
Weep not, my daughters, she hath fallen asleep 
Gloriously. 

Agatha 
Yea, madam, Christ's mother hath ta'en her hand^again. 

Dagonet {falling on his knees) 
Dead! Oh, my lady! 

Launcelot 
Nay, she doth sleep. Dead .? Art thou gone .? 



GUENEVERE 8i 

Gone when thou art all mine at last tho late! 
Nay, God's life, madam, she is not dead, or why 
Drives the blood yet here in my heart! Thou'lt 

wake ? 
Nay, dead, oh, dead — then all is dead 
Forevermore! 

Monvena 
My lord — 

Launcelot 
Oh, then a long good night to you, my lady! 
Good night. 

{There comes the sound of knights clattering by and sing- 
ing a catch.) 

What ho, heigho, with bridle and spur! 

Heigho, and away we ride, 

For men do love, heigho, do love! — 

Morwena 
Who sings ? 

Agatha 
'lis knights returned from Camelot and the feasts. 
The new king, Constantine, is crowned. 



Scene II 

y1 %uood near Glastonbury. The luood is dark and, save 
for a rustle of the leafage noiv and then, silent. Pres- 
ently there comes a light through the trees, which 
brightens and brightens. The tramp of footsteps is 
heard growing gradually louder. Sir Launcelot and 
his seven knights enter %vith the queen's bier on their 
shoulders, and eight torches burning about her. Her 
head rests on a cushion, and on her breast is her crown. 
A pall of black samite bordered with gold lilies covers 
her body. The knights turn in behind a rocky mound, 
then reappear among the trees. Then as they go, every 



82 GUENEVERE 

now and then, their torches flash further and further 
away, smaller and smaller points of light amid the 
columns of the wood, till the last tu'inkle is gone and the 
blackness returns. 

CURTAIN 



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